


This Isn't Goodbye

by Malathyne



Category: Doctor Who
Genre: Episode: s04e17-e18 The End of Time, Gen, I don't want to go, Memories, Temporary Character Death, lullaby
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-06-04
Updated: 2014-06-04
Packaged: 2018-02-03 09:39:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 280
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1739960
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Malathyne/pseuds/Malathyne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Her thief is dying and afraid. She sings to remind him he will live on. She sings to remind him he is not alone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Isn't Goodbye

**Author's Note:**

> This was written way back, shortly after the End of Time part two. I couldn't stop myself from expressing the way I thought of the Doctor's theme, so I incorporated it into this fic. It was my way of saying good-bye to my Doctor. Decided it's good enough to post here, with some tweaking.

The universe is singing him to his sleep, and in this moment, he feels… everything. Grateful and bitter and ( _afraid_ ) comforted and … ( _lonely_ ) everything.

The Ood song makes him think of Donna ( _she cried when she heard it_ ), of Rose ( _trying so hard to be friendly_ ), of Martha ( _the look in her eyes as she left_ ) -- of everything he didn’t understand ( _I am the Sin and the fear and darkness_ ), of everything he’d seen ( _Not even the Time Lords came this far_ ), of everything he didn’t do ( _the Doctor must look at this planet and turn away in shame_ ).

He’d never see them again. Any of them -- Planets, stars, ( _his_ ) people. Oh, sure, he’d _see_ them again -- The Doctor will live on, that’s for certain, but -- _He’d_ never see them again. Not as him. Not as this tall skinny bloke, rude and not ginger.

Hey, there he goes. Maybe he’ll be ginger this time.

… But he can’t even bring himself to laugh, not when there’s that song playing in his head. Not when the universe is singing him to his death.

There’s another song, though -- A softer one, a familiar one, sung by a familiar voice, a voice that sounds like home. It’s floating there, just under the surface of the Ood‘s symphony, like a gentle golden whisper brushing against his mind. He knows what it is, and it makes his throat constrict. He knows it’s _her_ , knows it’s his lullaby, his spirit song. _My swan song_ , he thinks with dark humor, but the thought is softened by the golden voice of his girl.

His TARDIS is singing for him, singing his song just for him, and she always will.


End file.
